


lavender

by cumpeachx



Series: heart out [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Public Hand Jobs, just the boys being high and horny again, nippleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 14:45:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18478393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumpeachx/pseuds/cumpeachx
Summary: Timmy is feeling nostalgic. Armie indulges.Part 2 of the ‘heart out’ series in which the boys get high together and fool around!





	lavender

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for eliooliver.  
> you’re lovely and i adore you. 
> 
> fiction.

“This is so fucking ridiculous, Tim,” Armie laughed, hiding his face in mild embarrassment behind his hand. “You really can’t wait till we get back to the hotel?”

Timmy’s eyes flickered up through his lashes as he continued working on the project in his lap. He shot Armie a dirty look before rolling his eyes then looked back downwards. His tongue poked out against his bottom lip, his eyes dark with intense focus. 

“Don’t judge me, asshole. I used to do this all the time back in high school,” Timmy explained, grunting a little as he tightened his grip, pushing forward with his wrist. “It’s like, fucking... _nostalgic._ I don’t know.”

“Yeah, but you’re not in high school anymore. I have papers in my bag back at the hotel,” Armie explained with a sigh. This was completely unnecessary but part of him knew, and loved, that Timmy was so impatient. When he wanted something, he wanted it _now_ and rarely did Timothée Chalamet not get what he asked for. Still, Armie liked to pretend he could put up a fight, if not for his own dignity than at least so he could see Timmy get all pissed off and flustered when he pushed back. 

“What, am I _offending_ you, Armie?” Timmy asked with a snarky smile, his voice patronizing and annoyed, his wrist twisting and turning in Armie’s peripheral vision. 

“Fuck off,” Armie laughed, his heart fluttering momentarily as it always did whenever he was suddenly catapulted back to Crema, even if only for a moment. Armie leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, half on the lookout, half to appreciate the scenery. It wasn’t the first time that they would have gotten high in Central Park but it was the first time that he would be smoking out of a fucking apple to do so, which Armie couldn’t believe Timmy was _still_ working on.

“This is ridiculous,” Armie muttered to himself, looking upwards with annoyance as his knee bounced anxiously. Timmy lifted the apple to his open mouth, cupping his lips against the shiny skin to blow through the tunnel that he’d created by impaling the fruit with a with a pen, hollowing out the core and meat to form a makeshift piping system. Armie thought of what a contrast it was to the last piece of fruit Timmy had torn apart.

“You already said that,” Timmy stretched a smile around the apple, the skin of his lips sticking to the green skin of the fruit when he pulled away. Armie licked his lips and thought about the tart flavor of the apple and the sweetness of Timmy’s tongue. He wanted both. 

Armie watched as a few younger kids walked by, chattering and laughing, probably minding their own business but when one of them happened to look their way he slapped Timmy in the thigh. 

“Hey, hey, careful. People walking by,” he warned, his eyes wide and his head turned away from the passersby as if _that_ was going to make them inconspicuous. Timmy laughed, shaking his head as he pulled his grinder out from his pocket. 

“You’re fucking paranoid, relax. They’re probably getting high too, Armie. You need to chill.” Timmy screwed open the lid and started to pinch the already grinded contraband into the small hole he’d made at the top of the apple. He put everything away once it was ready, wiping his fingers off on his side pocket and immediately took a hit with no regard to Armie’s panic stricken face over how public this all was. 

“Is this because I didn’t fuck you this morning? Are you high strung because I wanted pancakes instead of your ass?” Timmy asked, his voice thick as he withheld the smoke in his lungs, a shit-eating grin on his face when Armie continued to look like an absolute sour puss. He blew the smoke out directly into Armie’s face and then passed the apple and lighter over. 

“Want a hand job in the bushes or something?” Timmy asked before Armie could even put the apple to his lips. 

“What the hell, Tim. Are you trying to get us arrested today or what?” Armie rolled the apple between his long fingers, watching as the tendrils of smoke floated upwards from the small pile of weed at the top. He sighed and took a hit while Timmy just continued to watch him, his eyes already softly glazed and half-lidded. Armie blew the smoke directly back at him in retaliation but Timmy just leaned into it, snapping at the air as if trying to take bites out of the smoke. 

“Not bad,” Armie shrugged, picking at his teeth where some of the weed had pulled through the apple core. He made a face and Timmy laughed again, loud and boisterous. 

Ten minutes later, the bowl was ashed and Timmy took a bite out of the side of the apple before pulling his arm back and tossing the fruit out as far as he could. It landed somewhere in the bushes, behind a bunch of trees. 

“Wait,” Timmy froze. “I didn’t just kill a squirrel or something by doing that, right? What if they eat it?” He was standing on his tiptoes as if he would be able to see where the fruit landed. Armie snorted and shook his head, placing a reassuring palm against his lower back.

“It’s fine. This is Central Park. There are worse things than a pot-infused apple buried in the bushes,” Armie tried to sound reassuring but it probably didn’t help that he was smiling like a fool over the fact that Timmy looked absolutely fucking adorable in his concern over the New York wildlife. 

“No, no, no,” Timmy shook his head, spinning on his feet and grabbing Armie by the hand. He took off from the sidewalk and headed into the grass towards the bushes, pulling Armie along with him. “We have to go get it, Armie. I feel guilty.”

Armie just sighed but followed him into the depths of the bushes and trees because again, he knew it was futile to argue with Timmy when he wanted something. They searched for a few minutes but Armie realized he was doing most of the work, even getting on his knees at one point to get a better angle under a series of bushes. No apple. He sat up on his hindquarters, placing his hands on his thighs and when he turned to look over at Timmy, he found him looming overhead, a wicked grin on his face as he stared down at Timmy. 

“Wanna make out?”

Armie scoffed, standing up slowly to look Timmy over. Getting high in public was one thing, fooling around was another. They had done both, of course, but usually the fooling around happened with the blanket of nighttime to keep cover. Today the sun was bright at the top of the hour, warm beams basking over them through the few trees that kept them covered. Still, as Armie’s head swirled from his high, he found himself mesmerized by the warm, golden glow the sunlight radiated over Timmy. 

Armie hooked his finger under the sharp scoop of Timmy’s shirt, his fingernail scraping along shoulder, collar bone, all the way to the center where it dipped between his chest. He dragged his finger up until it rested in the dip at the base of Timmy’s throat. Armie felt the sound that rumbled from his touch, but it was too faint to _hear_ it but he didn’t need to. He knew what that sound meant. Armie licked his lips and spread his fingers out, letting them expand over Timmy’s soft neck.

“I like this shirt,” he whispered, leaning in, pressing his shoulder against Timmy’s. He sighed warmth and desire over his ear. “You know I can see your nipples through it, right?” Timmy had only wore this sheer lavender scoop neck once before and Armie was still pissed he wasn’t there to show his appreciation. He had a lot to make up for. 

“Maybe that’s why I bought it,” Timmy breathed against Armie’s ear, pulling him in by the waist and slowly backing them up until he was pressed against a tree. Armie pressed his lips down the side of Timmy’s neck, his heart stammering nervously in his chest while he hooked a hand under the hem of Timmy’s shirt, trailing his fingertips up his belly until he found a pert, hard nipple. He pinched it tenderly between his thumb and forefinger and Timmy mewled. 

“Put it in your mouth,” Timmy whined, his eyes closed and his head back against the trunk of the tree. Armie knew he would probably have to pick out bits of bark from his curls later. He looked forward to it. “I promise no one will see us,” Timmy whispered breathlessly, biting his lip as Armie continued to tweak and turn the nub of his nipple. “ _Please,_ Armie.”

“Mmmm, well —” Armie growled as he lowered himself down to one knee. He pushed Timmy’s shirt up to his ribs, pressing a slow series of wet kisses up his tummy. “Since you said _‘please.’_ ” 

Timmy bunched his shirt up at the center of his chest, just under his chin, exposing both of his nipples as Armie gripped him by the waist, locking him firmly against the tree. Timmy squirmed as he felt the slide of Armie’s tongue over his skin, his high making Armie’s mouth feel like hot velvet. His knees almost gave in when Armie wrapped his mouth around his nipple, pulling the bud between his teeth as he flicked his tongue teasingly over the sensitive circle. 

“Oh fuck, _fuck yes_ ” Timmy simpered as his hips bucked forward, going absolutely nowhere since Armie had a death grip against his waist, holding him in place, unable to do anything other than writhe between him and the tree. He could feel the scratch of the bark against his spine, slightly painful but because he was high and turned on it didn’t matter. He liked it. 

Armie sucked at his nipple, lips wide and cheeks hallowed and Timmy smiled when he thought of how Armie had done nearly the same thing to the apple they smoked out of earlier. Armie always looked so good with anything in his mouth, but Timmy liked it best when it was his own body that was engulfed by those beautiful, pink, pillowy lips. 

Timmy rutted his hips forward, lifting his knee which Armie hooked his arm under, letting his hand slide up to his backside where he palmed his ass tightly, fingers digging into the firm, small muscle. Armie bit down on his nipple and Timmy yelped, throwing the back of his hand over his mouth to silence himself but Armie was relentless, still flicking his tongue over the reddened bud while Timmy basically dry-humped the minimal space between them. 

“Armie, please,” Timmy begged but he had no idea what for. Luckily, Armie always seemed to know what he needed and with a wry grin he pulled his lips off his nipple with a loud, wet smack. His lips were slightly puffy from their insistence and Armie grinned, toothy and knowingly, as he slowly licked over Timmy’s mouth. He tasted like tart apple, weed, and Timmy. 

“You need to chill, Tim,” Armie repeated Timmy’s earlier words directly back into his wide open mouth. “You’re so high strung…” his words trailed off as his knuckles dragged down Timmy’s stomach, his fingers working quickly to undo the button of his jeans, pulling down the zipper just enough so he could slide his hand beneath the waist. Timmy wasn’t wearing any underwear. 

They both gasped when Armie’s palm gripped the base of his cock. Timmy was already fully hard and Armie was pleasantly surprised by how wet the tip of his cock was by the time he twisted his wrist and stroked downwards. It was difficult to maneuver his hand around Timmy shaft because his jeans were tight and his hand was huge, but Timmy seemed to enjoy the restriction and close proximity so Armie leaned into it, his mouth sloppily kissing over his neck and biting down on all the exposed skin that the shirt so graciously granted him, thanks to the ridiculous dip of the collar. 

“You’re going to make me come,” Timmy warned, his words as choppy as his breathing. Armie felt the muscles in his forearms tightening, cramping slightly from the poor positioning for this type of strenuous activity but he pumped his half-closed fist harder over Timmy’s cock. He felt pubic hair brush roughly against his inner wrist, lovingly the idea that he’d walk away from this smelling like Timmy, in more ways than one. 

Timmy’s hips thrusted forward in anguish, the rhythm of his movements now desperate and unsteady, his hands all over Armie trying to brace himself on any part of his body he could grab ahold of; bicep, shoulder, fistfuls of hair. 

“Shit, oh, _oh fuck. Armie,”_ Timmy’s head hit the back of the tree trunk with a thud, his tongue hanging low against his bottom lip as he chanted _Armie_ repeatedly until he was stunned to silence, coming in heady, hot spurts against Armie’s palm. 

They stood in breathless quiet for a moment, the distant sound of people walking by somewhere on a nearby pathway filling the silence along with their own pants and stuttering breath as they tried to compose themselves. Armie focused on the birds in the trees and thought maybe he heard a shuffle in the nearby bushes. Armie chuckled and pulled his come-coated hand out of the front of Timmy’s jeans and wiped it off in the back of the tree. They really weren’t doing any favors for the wild life today. 

“I can’t believe you just made me come in my pants like a damn teenager,” Timmy giggled, pulling his shirt down and doing his jeans back up. Armie kissed him tenderly on the mouth. 

“Nostalgic enough for you?” Armie teased, referencing back to plenty of stories Timmy had shared about his promiscuous adventures in high school and college. 

“Fuck off,” Timmy laughed, biting a kiss back against Armie’s mouth. 


End file.
